


Mar’eyce

by Lasgalendil



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Armor, Child Death, Found Family, Gen, Genocide, Grief/Mourning, Mandalorian Culture, POV The Armorer, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rituals, Starvation, The Mandalorian has PTSD, the mandalorian season 1 compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22012228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasgalendil/pseuds/Lasgalendil
Summary: The Covert collapses. Din earns his sigil.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Armorer & Paz Vizla, The Armorer & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian & Paz Vizla
Comments: 24
Kudos: 209





	1. Ba’slanar

The Covert was small. The tunnels echoed. There was no place in their exile for privacy.

“Ori’vod! Ori’vod!” the younglings begged, “come play cu’bikad with us!

“Not today,” Din said. “We will play when I return.”

“You are leaving?” they asked. “Again?”

“Yes, vaar’ika. Again.”

“Bring back food!”

“Bring back meat! We’ve had nothing but dried fish and broth for days.”

“Only days?” asked Din. “That is nothing. I once had nothing but dried fish and broth for weeks.”

“For weeks?” they wondered.

“Ori’haat, I swear.” Din lied seriously. “When I was your age, we were lucky to have dried fish and broth. Many days we drank only water and ate only air.”

“You are lying, Ori’vod!” the younglings laughed. “You are teasing us!”

“I am a devout man,” Din insisted. “I never lie.”

“Come back soon, Ori’vod!” they called. “Come back safely!”

“Bring us a feast, Ori’vod!”

“As you say, verd’ika.” Din bowed to them. “When I return I will bring you a feast.”

“You do not do well to promise them things you cannot provide.” She told him. 

She did not know him as an arrogant man, but he was angry. And determined. “I will provide,” Din said, and went to the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a dictionary http://mandoa.org/
> 
> Mar’eyce [mah-RAY-shay]  
discovery, something found at last, a state of heaven
> 
> Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori’wadaas’la [Gar tal-DEEN nee jah-OHN-eesh, gar sa BOO-eer OH-ree-wah-DAHS-la]  
Nobody cares who your parents were, only the parent you will be. Literally: Bloodline is not important, but you as a parent are the most valuable thing. Emphasizes the importance of the parents’ role, and that a person is judged by more than their genetic lineage. Literally ‘bloodline is not important, but you as a parent are the most valuable thing’
> 
> Ba’slanar [BAH-slah-NAR] leave, depart, exit
> 
> Ori’vod [OH-ree-VOD]-big sibling, older sibling, special friend
> 
> cu’bikad [COO-bee-kahd] indoor game that involves stabbing blades into a checkered board, a cross between chess, darts, and ludo
> 
> vaar’ika[vahr-EE-kah]-little one, pipsqueak, runt
> 
> gihaal [gee-HAHL]-dried fish meal with a pungent smell
> 
> pirpaak-[PEER-pahk] -broth/soup, literally ‘salted water’
> 
> ori’haat [OH-ree-haht]-it’s the truth, I swear, literally ‘(very)big truth’
> 
> chayaikir [CHAI-ay-keer]-to tease, to make fun of (not hostile as in ‘to mock’)
> 
> verd’ika [vair-DEE-kah] the rank of private, in context can be an affectionate nickname for a small child, literally ‘little soldier’
> 
> k’oyacyi [koy-AH-shee] Come back safely, literally ‘come back alive’
> 
> ori’skraan [OH-ree-skrahn] -a delicacy, a treat, a feast
> 
> gar shuk meh kyrayc [gar SHOOK may keer-AYSH] You’re no use dead. Said to encourage someone to take a rest, rarely literal. 
> 
> ramikadyc[RAH-mee-KAHD-eesh]-commando state of mind, and attitude that one can do anything, endure anything, and achieve the objective. A blend of complete confidence and extreme tenacity instilled in special forces during training. Can also be used informally to describe a determined, focused person
> 
> tal’onidir [tahl-ON-ee-DEE-neer] to sweat blood, to go the extra mile, literally ‘to give blood’


	2. Ke’gyce

By her command, Din alone was permitted to leave. Not all of the Covert took it well.

“You have sent Din alone.” Vizla accused her.

“In these dangerous times a Mandalorian alone is a curiosity. Two are a threat. Our secrecy is our survival.” She said. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” The Covert echoed.

“You have sent Din again,” Vizla argued. “There are more experienced hunters.”

“Yes.” She agreed. “There are more experienced hunters.” Din was by no means the most experienced, but he was skilled, and blooded, and was as yet Incomplete. There were warriors within their small Covert, yes, but few who needed still the opportunity to complete their armor and gain their sigil. These she could not deny him.

“Why do you send Din?” Vizla asked again. “Why do you not send others?” He did not say, ‘why do you not send me’.

Din was humble, and would not risk himself unnecessarily. He was present for every remembrance, followed every Resol’nare, and—above all else—Din tithed earnestly. He had been known to do so even before the Purge. He would not shortchange them. “When Din returns there will be food in plenty.” She answered instead. ”Until then you should rest and recover your strength.”

He grumbled, but did not disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a dictionary http://mandoa.org/
> 
> ke’gyce [keh-GHEE-shay] order, command
> 
> duumir [DOOM-eer] to allow
> 
> duumyc [DOO-meesh] allowed, approved, permitted
> 
> solus [SOH-loos] alone, vulnerable
> 
> morut’yc [moh-ROO-teesh] safe, secure
> 
> ranov’la [rah-NOHV-lah] secret
> 
> cuyanir [coo-YAH-neer] survive
> 
> beskar’gam [BES-kar-GAM] armor
> 
> aliik [ah-LEEK[ sigil, symbol on armor
> 
> me’dinuir [med-IN-oo-eer] share, give to each other


	3. Ke’pare

Din did not return.

The covert was small. The children were sleepless, and their voices rang out. “We’re hungry!” They cried. “Is there nothing to eat?”

“My child is sick,” a parent said. “She needs strength to recover.”

“Can’t someone else go?” yet others whispered. “They have had nothing but broth for days.” They did not say, ‘let us go’. They did not say, ‘we will die here.’

There was nothing save _gihaal_ in their stores. Salted fish and water would keep a person alive, yes, but it would not nourish. The younglings especially needed more to grow strong. She was their leader. She must prepare them for the future, the tomorrows after tomorrow. To give out less would be cruel. To give out more would be rash. “Din will return to us.” She said, and continued to ration. “We will wait.”

“Mand’alor,” they beseeched her at her forge, “the young ones are hungry.”

“Din will be back soon.”

“The young ones have been hungry for some time.”

“Din will return.”

“And if he does not?” Would you have us starve, they did not ask, we as well as our children?

“Then we will remember him. This is the Way.”

“Yes,” they repeated. “This is the Way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a dictionary http://mandoa.org/
> 
> Ke’pare [kay-PAH-ray] Wait! (command)
> 
> parer [PAH-rair] wait
> 
> Mand’alor [MAHN-dah-lor] sole ruler
> 
> yaimpar [yay-EEM-par] return
> 
> partaylir [par-TAY-leer] remember
> 
> Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum [NEE soo-COO-yee, gar keer-AH-deesh, nee par-TIE-lee, gar dah-rah-SOOM] daily remembrance of those who are dead: “I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.” The phrase is followed by the repetition of loved ones’ names.


	4. Kyr’am

The little infant coughed. She grew pale. She died.

The Covert mourned. They had no pyre on which to burn her. She rejoined the forge.

“She is not gone,” She said. “She is marching far away. You will go to her, but she cannot return to you. This is the Way.”

The mother did not answer. In the morning, she was gone.

“Will she return?” She asked.

“I am a clan of two,” the father said, and presented an empty helm. “I have no spouse, only a child. I will go to her, but she will not return to me. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a dictionary http://mandoa.org/
> 
> kyr’am [kee-RAHM] death
> 
> ik’aad [EE-kad] baby, child under 3
> 
> aay’han [AY-yee-hahn] bittersweet moment of mourning and joy, remembering and celebrating
> 
> tracinya [trah-SHEE-nah] flame
> 
> taab’echaaj’la [TAHB-eh-CHAHJ-lah] deceased, passed on, literally ‘marching far away’
> 
> buir [BOO-eer] parent
> 
> buy’ce [BOO-shay or BOO-chay] helmet
> 
> riduur [REE-door] partner, spouse


	5. Dar’manda

She woke to the smell of roasting meat. “What is this?” She asked. “Has Din returned?”

“Dreeg brought us food!” the young ones cried.

She gathered the Covert. Brought him forth. “You have left the Covert. Do you deny this?”

“I do not deny this.” Dreeg said. “I have left the Covert, and I am unashamed.”

“You have left the Covert without permission and against my command.”

Dreeg spoke, “I did what was necessary to ensure our survival.”

“You have endangered our people, our children,” She accused.

“I was not followed,” Dreeg said. “I was not seen.”

“To walk the way of the Mandalore is to be seen.”

Dreeg said, “I was not seen.”

“You have removed your helmet. You have endangered your Covert. You have abandoned the Way.”

“You have abandoned the Way,” the Covert repeated.

“A child is dead,” he said as She removed his helm. “If I am to be damned, so be it, but others need not suffer the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a dictionary http://mandoa.org/
> 
> dar’manda [dar-MAHN-da] a state of not being a Mandalorian-not an outsider, but one who has lost their heritage, and so their identity, and their soul. Regarded with absolute dread by most traditionally minded Mando’ade.


	6. Haastal

Din returned.

She was not surprised. He always had.

Others did not share her assessment.

Din was not rash. He was careful. He was capable. Yet he yearned for a connection incompatible now with their way of life. That was his danger, not a fault of his faith but a yearning for family.

Not all who walked the way of the Mandalore wished to be espoused nor a parent. It was not part of the Resol’nare, but held still in high regard. The Empire was gone, perhaps, but they lived now in the shadow of the Night of a Thousand Tears. Few had survived. Those who lost mates remained in mourning and many had not remarried, and who from the outside could their Covert trust? Few children had been born in many years, and it was too dangerous, too desperate a time to take in a foundling. Din, still without sigil, yet to complete his armor, wished for nothing more.

He sat in front of the forge. Did not flinch. But the sound of it, the flashes, the heat, it opened a wound within him. He would have done well, she thought, on Manda’yaim. But they lived on Mandalore no longer. Din could not give these younglings the childhood he himself had lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Chapter 1, Din goes from "these are Imperial credits" and accepting half of what his work is worth to taking and keeping an Underworld job from ex-Imperials still wearing their regalia and flaunting beskar stolen from his people. Dude had to be desperate, is all I'm saying.
> 
> Mando’a dictionary http://mandoa.org/
> 
> haastal [HAH-stahl] dried blood, scab, also a term for a lasting emotional scar
> 
> yaimpar [yay-EEM-par] return
> 
> Manda’yaim [MAN-dah-YAI-eem] Mandalore


	7. Hu'tuun

She sat.

Din did not sit. He revealed the beskar, but said nothing. She did not know him to be boastful, but she knew him to be quaint. This silence was unsettling. But the beskar was a reminder of their fallen, and in an amount now seldom seen. She thought no more of it than he had done well. It was good it had returned to the tribe.

Behind him, the Covert gathered.

“This amount can be shaped many ways.”

“My armor has lost its integrity, I may need to begin again.” Din offered, as though it were not obvious.His armor had been destroyed.

“Indeed,” She said. “I can form a full cuirass. This would be in order for your station.”

“That would be a great honor.”

“I must warn you, it will draw many eyes.” And indeed it had.

“These were cast in an Imperial smelter,” Vizla grunted, and stole an ingot from the table. “These are the spoils of the Great Purge!” He held it aloft for all to see.

He did not lie. Din could not argue.

“There’s a reason we live hidden like sand rats.” Vizla tossed the beskar down in disrespect of both the metal and the man who had returned it. “This is beskar, yes. But you dishonor yourself and you dishonor the dead.”

Din said nothing.

“Our secrecy is our survival,” She replaced the beskar with its kin. “Our survival is our strength.”

“Our strength was once in our numbers,” Vizla argued. “Now we live in the shadows and only come above ground one at a time.” He did not say ‘you permit only Din to come above ground’.

Din again said nothing.

“Our world was shattered by the Empire with whom this coward shares tables!”

Din ignored the insult. It was at once both wise and foolish.

Vizla grabbed the underside of Din’s helmet. Din grappled with him, but his opponent had the advantage of both height and strength, overpowered him, and lifted him off his feet. Din lunged forward, but this momentum alone could not break his grasp. Once, twice Din struck with all his weight at the joint of his elbow, until his grip failed. Din pulled a vibroblade from the sheath beneath his knee, slashing across Vizla’s breastplate.

Slowly She stood. She would not interfere. A challenge of faith must be met at every turn, could only sharpen and hone the skills necessary for a warrior. This was the Way.

Din surpassed him in speed, yes, but Vizla was stronger still, and had the advantage of size. One long arm kept Din at bay, while another drew a blade of his own. Din had comported himself well, but his opponent’s strength and size had overwhelmed him. The vibroblade Vizla held beneath his chin could fell him, his opponent’s reach too far for he himself strike a mortal blow. But he had kept his helmet, and proven himself willing to fight—to die, even—if need be.

“The Empire is no longer,” She declared. “And the beskar has returned. When one chooses to walk the way of the Mandalore you are both hunter and prey.” She addressed the Covert, “How can one be a coward if one chooses this way of life?”

They remained silent.

She turned to Din. “Have you ever removed your helmet?”

“No.”

“Has it ever been removed by others?”

A pause. He looked to Vizla. “Never.”

“This is the Way.” She spoke.

“This is the Way.” The Covert echoed.

“This is the Way,” Vizla relented, and lowered his blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a dictionary http://mandoa.org/
> 
> hu'tuun [hoo-TOON] coward (worst possible insult)
> 
> shak’kajir [SHAH-ka-JEER] over at meal, at the dinner table. Table comes from the word for level, flat, so the implication is equals breaking bread together. It implies that Din eats with members of the Empire, i.e. removes his helmet in public with their worst foe
> 
> I love that during the fight scene the Covert and the Armorer are just like, “Yeah, let them fight with knives. They lend weight to a moral argument.” Then again, they’re Mandalorians, if weapons are their religion, maybe they do.


	8. Mirjahaal

When She had dressed and armored him, Din did not leave the Forge.

“I cannot stay here.” He said.

“You have done well. You have returned the beskar, and have provided for us. Rest.”

“I cannot stay here.” Din said again.

“You would leave against my orders?”

“I would ask you to reconsider.”

This business with the mudhorn and the sigil had shaken him. He would find his way soon, or not at all. “Go then, if this is what you wish. But be warned, if it is peace you seek, you may look far and not find it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mirjahaal [MEER-jah-HAHL] peace of mind, healing, emotional well-being after trauma or bereavement


	9. Chapter 9

She awoke to a strange sound. There were children’s voices in the Forge.

“Mand’alor, Mand’alor,” the younglings cried. “Help us, Mand’alor!”

There were footsteps. Voices. Murmuring. The Covert had awakened.

She put on her helmet. Went out to face them. “You have crossed the threshold under the skull of the ancient Mythosaur,” She told them gravely. “To do so without permission is a terrible sin.”

With them was a Bothan dressed in rags. “And you have brought an Outsider into our most sacred space. Tell me, who permitted you to bring this Outsider among our people and into the Forge?”

“Mand’alor, please,” the younglings begged, and fell on their faces. “We must speak with you!”

“You have entered the sacred Forge. You have endangered our Tribe. You know the punishment. Why have you brought this Outsider into our midst?”

“It is Din, Mand’alor!” The younglings wailed. “Ori’vod! He is in danger!”

Behind them, the Covert gathered, restless.

“Silence.” She ordered. “Who is this Outsider, and what does he seek?”

“I am no Outsider,” the Bothan spoke. “I am Dreeg.”

“We know no Dreeg but a traitor!” Vizla shouted.

“Indeed,” She said. “He would do well to not return. He is not welcome here. And now he has taken advantage of the vulnerability of children. He has returned, but he will not leave.”

“I care not what you do to me, only listen!” Dreeg shouted. “It’s Din!”

“What of him?” Vizla spat.

“He is in danger.”

“As are you,” She told him, and raised her hammer. “You knew the consequences of returning. You are already soulless. You will be lifeless now as well.”

But Vizla dared stop her hand. “Why would you return?” He asked. “Why would you risk your life for one such as Din?” he wondered.

“When I left the Covert I had nothing,” Dreeg admitted. “He aided me in need even though it is forbidden.”

There was muttering among the Covert. 

“That is the foolishness Din would do, yes,” said Vizla.

“He is now in grave danger!” Dreeg implored him. “If you do nothing, Din will die.”

“You are not of our tribe.” She answered.

“Din is!” Dreeg cried. “Is he not one of you, Mandalorians? Do you not protect your own?”

“This Outsider is right,” said Vizla. “Din is of our tribe.”

“Din aided one outside of the tribe,” She declared. “If this is his downfall, so be it.”

“Din is of our tribe,” Vizla opposed her. “We are Mandalorians. We protect our own.”

“Our secrecy is our survival. Our survival is our strength,” She spoke. “Would you risk our secrecy for the sake of the word of this Outsider?”

“You say this, but our secrecy has brought us nothing but and shame and sickness and the death of a little one!” Vizla asserted. “This Dreeg at least is known to us! He has returned at great risk to himself. Why should he lie?”

“He returned at great risk to himself,” She agreed. “Yet we cannot risk our survival on the word only of this Outsider.”

“Hear me, Covert!” Vizla cried. “We walk the way of the Mandalore, and we protect our own. Is this not the Way?”

The Covert answered him, “This is the Way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a dictionary http://mandoa.org/
> 
> cetar [set-ARR] kneel in submission
> 
> aruetii [ah-roo-AY-tee] traitor, foreigner, outsider
> 
> or’dinii [ohr-DEE-nee] moron, fool
> 
> buruk [BOO-rook] danger
> 
> ash’amur [ash-AH-moor] to die (especially violently in battle)
> 
> tionir [tee-OHN-eer] question, interrogate
> 
> tion’jor [tee-ON-jor] why
> 
> I can’t believe there’s a fucking PUN in Din’s name. We don’t know what planet he was born on, but he was adopted by the Mandalorians, grew up among the Mandalorians, and became a Mandalorian when he took the creed…despite, you know, the constant teasing because his birth name literally spells ‘dumbass’ in the Mandalorian language.
> 
> Paz “Din is a dumbass but he’s our dumbass” Vizla, everyone!


	10. Chapter 10

She remained in the Forge. Long she waited for their return.

“I have returned.” Vizla said, and sat across from her. “And I will accept the consequences.”

“You have returned,” She said. “So be it. But neither you nor I nor the Covert can control the consequences of your actions today.

He was silent.

“And Din? What of him?”

“He is with the child.”

“The child?”

“A foundling,” said Vizla.

“He said nothing of a foundling.” She wondered. “He brought only the beskar. He refused a sigil.”

“Din was not permitted a foundling,” Vizla said. “He could say nothing.”

“And this foundling?” She asked. “Is it safe?”

“It is with Din.”

“Where is Din?” She asked. “Where is this child? It must be brought into the tribe at once.”

“I let them go.”

“You have committed a grave sin today. You have placed this foundling under the protection of one without his Covert. Tell me, how can Din raise a child alone?”

“The child was in danger. There was no other way.”

“Explain.” She said. “Tell me who is this child. Where did it come from. Where is Din now.”

“I do not know. The guild say Din had hunted the creature, and delivered it to them.”

“This foundling was his quarry?” She asked. “Do you know what it is you have done? You know where it is the beskar came from! It is not the Bondsman’s Guild but the Empire you have angered.”

“The foundlings are the future,” Vizla argued. “Is this not the Way?”

“This is the Way,” She agreed. “But be warned that we have been hunted, and for Din’s folly and this foundling’s sake and your disobedience we will be hunted now anew.”

“I do not fear hunters.” said Vizla.

“Be wary,” She warned him, “lest your pride prove your downfall.”


	11. Chapter 11

She did not move the Covert.

They could not return to their home world. Mandalore as the elders had known it no longer existed, and her peoples and lands had been devastated by the Great Purge.

They could not escape this planet. To move above ground, to find transport for their Covert, would require the use of chain codes. Din perhaps had traveled freely, but he was a guild member, and this status offered protection. What little did mercenaries and bounty hunters care for the law? And what choice did the struggling Republic have but to rely on these to keep the semblance of peace?

Din had been one. The Covert were many. They had settled here unnoticed, perhaps, but to draw eyes would be to surrender their freedom. Camps, the New Republic called them. Temporary homes for the scattered children of Mandalore to ensure their survival. But those who had endured the Empire's Purge knew them by another name: prison. To struggle and starve in freedom was one thing, but to do so as slaves? What use to them were the empty promises of politicians? Did they protect the tribe? Feed the younglings? Honor the fallen? What did this New Republic made of Outsiders and Unbelievers know of the Way of the Mandalore?

They could not escape the planet. But where on Navarro could they go? It was a desert wasteland full of steam vents and lava. There were few settlements. Here in these sewers they were secreted. The depth and enormity of the stonework offered them protection. Here they had water, could scavenge for food.

This was their home. Here had they raised the skull of the ancient Mythosaur. Here had they built the sacred Forge and recited the Resol'nare. Here had they eaten and slept and honored their dead. No. They would not leave this place.


	12. Chapter 12

For Din’s sake and survival She had spared the Bothan.

…it would prove their undoing.

“Is that—Dreeg?” There was unrest and muttering among the Covert. And indeed Dreeg had returned. His left forepaw was dripping blood, and he was missing both an ear and an eye.

She grasped her hammer. “For the sake of Din and the foundling have we spared you, yet you now return.”

“It is the Empire,” gasped Dreeg. “They are here. They grow in numbers every day.”

“The Empire is here, yes.” She said. “This we know.”

“Let them come!” said Vizla. “The Children of Mandalore long for vengeance.”

“You cannot fight them.” Answered Dreeg. “And you can no longer hide. They know of the Covert. They know your number, your names and your kind. They are coming.”

There were cries of alarm throughout the Covert. “Our name and kind? How can this be?”

“How indeed,” She spoke, and broke the Bothan’s thigh with her tongs. “You have brought our enemies to our very doorstep. With what did they buy your betrayal?” She stood over him. “What was the promised price?”

“I was promised they would spare the little ones.”

She brought her hammer down in a spray of blood and bone.


	13. Chapter 13

Marching steps echoed in the sewers surrounding them.

“We must flee!” someone cried.

“We cannot leave here,” some insisted. “There is nowhere to go!”

“We will not leave here,” yet others answered. “This is our home.”

“For years have we run and hidden,” said Vizla. “I will run and hide no more.”

“Manda’lor! Manda’lor!” The younglings cried. “What will we do?”

“We are warriors,” She told them. “We will fight.”


	14. Chapter 14

The tunnels were stone. They would not burn, yet neither would they yield. The Empire flooded the sewers, and what had once been their protection instead proved their grave.

“Manda’lor! Manda’lor!” the younglings cried as the waves crushed them against the walls. “Save us, Manda’lor!”

“Surrender!” The Empire called. “Surrender!”

“We are the Children of Manda’yaim,” She answered them. “We do not surrender.”

“Then you will die here!” They taunted her. “You as well as your little ones!”

“Stay!” cried Vizla.“Stay! If we send them up, will you spare at least the little ones?”

“No.” The Empire mocked him. “For we will remove your armor and desecrate your corpses! We will destroy you root and stem, to the youngest foundling, until there is nothing left of Mandalore. For you it is again the Night of a Thousand Tears!”

“Manda’lor! Manda’lor!” the younglings coughed.”Help us, Manda’lor!”

“We cannot fight them!” the Covert despaired. “Nor can we surrender.”

“Manda’lor!” The younglings screamed.

“Hold your hammers,” She told them. “Keep them in your hand. If we cannot live, then we die as warriors.”

“But Manda’lor, if they desecrate our corpses and remove our helmets, will we join the ranks of the Manda?” the younglings wondered as they were drowned. “Will we wake on Manda’yaim restored?”

“Yes.” She assured them as they died. “You will remain Manda. You will wake to Manda’yaim restored.”


	15. Mirshmure'cya

She did not wake to Manda’yaim restored. She woke still in the sewers, hefted over Vizla’s shoulder.

“Set me down.” She ordered. He placed her on her feet. “What is the meaning of this?”

“The Covert is drowned.” Vizla wept. “The enemy were many, and their strength too much. You alone could I save.”

“I will not leave this place!” She said.

“You must flee,” Vizla beseeched her. “For you are the Mand’alor. In you lives the strength and lore of our people.”

“I cannot leave this place.”

“You must survive!” Vizla cried. “You alone at least must survive.”

“The Way of the Mandalore is not in survival, but the Res’olnare.” She told him. “These have I followed all of my life. I myself will not yet abandon this place, not while the armor of our fallen goes unreclaimed. I must return them to the Forge.”

“Permit me instead to stay!” said Vizla.”I will honor the dead and reclaim them to the Forge.”

“Yet who can say whether Din and his foundling will return?” She asked him. “Who will give him his sigil, bestow on him the Rising Phoenix?”

Vizla was silent.

“If I am to leave, how can Din be Complete? Would you then withhold from him the ranks of the Manda?”

“Allow me then to remain with you.”

“No.” She refused him. “If indeed have any survived, you must now find and lead them. This is the Way.”

He pressed his helm to hers and answered, “This is the Way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mirshmure'cya [meersh-moor-AY-shah] Keldabe kiss - slang for headbutt (lit. brain-kiss)


	16. Chapter 16

She would not abandon this place. Not the threshold where they had raised the skull of the ancient mythosaur, nor the sacred Forge where they had Created and Reclaimed their own.

She returned to the Covert, to the tunnels and gutters they had called home. She smelt it before ever She saw it: the sickly sweet scent of rotting flesh, the charred smell of roasted meat, the heavy, bitter reek of blood and the stench of shit.

It was as the Night of A Thousand Tears. The Covert, torn down around her. No living thing left. They had stripped the corpses. Defiled the flesh. In this the Empire were no different.

But this was not Manda’yaim. Here, Hers had not been a people of prosperity. They had been exiles, outcasts, struggling to survive. There had been little beskar or precious metals among the members of the Covert. The enemy had not bothered to plunder, merely piled the armor in mockery of a tomb.

For weeks She watched as beetles, worms, flies, and maggots ate away the remains. Flesh returned to flesh. That which had sustained them would again sustain. Such was the Way.

Then little by little She undertook her task. To collect the remnants of their dead, to return them to the Forge, to reclaim their armor to the tribe. She burned steel into ash and iron. Smelted down small inlays of gold and silver, reclaimed copper from brass and bronze. She spun out silk-like strands of cortosis, separated drops of phrikite, tydirium, and songsteel. Alloys of all kinds She reduced to their component parts and Reclaimed them to the Forge.

From these she crafted the iron phoenix for Din, and with this, he would be Complete. It was made from the memories of each member of the Covert, and through it would they live on. That which had sustained them would again sustain. Such was the Way.


	17. Buir

Always for Din and the child She watched. She waited.

…She would wait a long, long time.

She heard stirring. Voices. Her hand found her hammer. If it was the Empire come for Her, if it was drunken Stormtroopers here again to disturb the armor of the dead…

But no. As she drew nearer she recognized Din’s voice. It was weakened, weary, but undeniably Din’s. Here was Din, yes. But what of the Foundling? Where was this child?

There were Outsiders with him. Greef Carga, at least, was known to her. The woman and the droid, she did not know. Had they brought him here to gloat? To die? If so, they would be sorely mistaken.

…but no. Din was swaying on his feet. Had fallen to his knees. Held up a child’s helmet to grieve. If indeed they were hunting him, he would be dead at their hands a hundred times over or more.

“We should go.” This strange woman said.

“You go,” Din told her. “Take the ship. I can’t leave it this way.” Indeed, he could not. No Mandalorian would. This was the Way.

Din turned to Carga. “Did you know about this? Was this the work of your bounty hunters?”

It was the Empire who had slaughtered them, not the bondsman’s guild, though Carga’s hunters had cost the Covert no few lives. “No.” The man insisted. “No. When you left the system and took the prize the fighting ended, and the hunters just melted away. You know how it is. They’re mercenaries, they’re not zealots!”

“Did you do this!” Din shouted, distraught, closing on the man. “Did you!”

“No!”

“It was not his fault.” She revealed Herself, even now, in front of Outsiders. She would not see Din kill so dishonorably, not even in grief. This place had seen too much death already. “We revealed ourselves. We knew what could happen if we left the Covert,” She rebuked him. “The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter. This is what resulted.”

“Did any survive?” Din begged her. They all had lost during the Great Purge, but for foundlings like Din, some lost more than most. A second family had been taken from him on Manda’yaim, and now the Covert struck down as well.

“I hope so.” She could offer little comfort. She knew only of Vizla, and even She Herself could not say in the end whether he had escaped or succumbed. “Some may have escaped off world.”

“Come with us.” He offered.

“No.” She refused him. “I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.” She turned away and entered the Forge, Din following behind. She led them over the threshold where they had raised the skull of the ancient Mythosaur, into the heart of the Forge itself. These strangers were Outsiders, yes, but they had succored Din and his Child, had returned them here. They were the friends of the Children of Manda’yaim, and as She had spared Dreeg before, She must invite them in now. While they yet aided Din and the Child they were under the Covert’s protection, but woe betide them should they prove to betray him.

“Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.”

“This is the one.” Said Din.

“The one you hunted,” She asked. “And saved?”

“Yes. The one that saved me as well.”

“From the mudhorn.” It was small. Sickly. “It looks helpless.” She did not say, ‘how’.

“It is injured, but it is not helpless.” Din told her. “Its species can move objects with its mind.”

A Jedi child. “I know of such things.”

He turned to her.

“The songs of eons past tell of battles between Manda’lor the Great and an order of sorcerers called Jedi that fought with such powers.”

“It is an enemy?”

“No.” She heard the grief, the anger underneath it all. She would not have him question the consequences of his faith. He had saved the Foundling. The Foundlings were the future. This was the Way, and Din had walked it though it had proved itself to be cruel. “Its _kind_ were enemies. This individual is not.”

“What is it?” he wondered again.

“It is a Foundling.” She reminded him. “By Creed, it is in your care.”

“You want me to train this thing?” Din asked, incredulous.

“It is too weak.” She told him. “It would die. You have no choice but to return it to its kind.”

“Where?”

“This you must determine.”

“You want me to search the galaxy and deliver this child to a race of_ enemy sorcerers_—!” He did not refuse her, but his anger and disbelief were clear.

“This is the way.”

Din said nothing. He did not say, ‘this is the way’.

“We have to move.” The Outsiders pressed. “These tunnels will be lousy with Imps any minute!”

“Go,” Din told his companions. “I have to help her and heal.”

“You cannot stay. A Foundling is in your care,” She reminded him yet again. “By Creed, until it is of age or can be reunited with its kind, you are as its father.” The child, at least, had sensed and known. Din perhaps had been in denial until now, waiting perhaps, for Her permission, the Covert’s acceptance. He never should have doubted: despite his own exile, Dreeg had risked his life to save him, and he had their blessing since the moment Vizla set eyes upon the Child. Until it was of age or returned to its own kind, they were as its Family, and it as much a Child of Mand’yaim as any who were born there: the children of adoption were the children of choice.

“You have earned your sigil.” She bestowed on him the signet of the mudhorn she had crafted so long ago. “You are a clan of two.”

“Thank you,” Din said. He was concussed, still, and weary, but she heard the pride in his choked off words. “I will wear it with honor.”

“Go.” She told him, after she had gifted him with the Rising Phoenix. “Protect your little one. The Covert is with you. This is the Way.”

Again he said, “Thank you.” He did not say, this is the Way. He was Complete, now, had adopted the Child he’d always yearned for, earned his sigil and the phoenix but in the process had lost his Covert. Had lost his faith. 

She’d looped the Mythosaur pendant about the neck of the little one. Din would find it when he was ready.


	18. Chapter 18

Against all odds, Din had returned. She had seen the Foundling and blessed his fatherhood. Given him his sigil. Made him Complete. The Covert had returned unto itself, and what had sustained them again would again sustain. Through him would they live anew. This was the Way.

Her work here was done. She must abandon this place. Must seek out Vizla, and any who remained. She would gather them under Her wing from the far flung corners of the galaxy. She would reform the Covert. She would find them a new hiding place, raise again the skull of the ancient Mythosaur, recite the Resol’nare, rekindle the sacred Forge.

…But not yet. Not yet. She would not leave these tunnels while Din and the Child still were hunted.

Kneeling she waited, hammer and tongs in hand. She had spun her web. Plucked the strings. Din and the Child were the quarry, and them alone had She secreted through. The Empire would come now to Her, and She would destroy them.

Yes, here they may come, but no further. Such was the Way.

**Author's Note:**

> Use of Mando’a language in this fic and its notes for instruction in Mandalorian culture falls under nonprofit educational purposes under 17 U.S.C. § 107.


End file.
